Chapter XXVIII THE HISSING OF “ALCIDE” There was a strange and ominous murmur of voices, a shuffling of feet in the gallery, a silence, which was like the silence before a storm. "So I think," replied Kneebone, again applying to the snuff-box, and by that means escaping the angry glance levelled at him by his companion. I don’t mean I’m not a good woman—I mean that I’m not a GOOD woman. I don't know what you have done; I don't want to know now. I couldn’t rest or eat or sleep. ‘How fascinating.
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